Switch
by Ravanear
Summary: No one notices when they wear each other's clothes. They discover this in a moment of total, blind luck. Jimon.


No one notices when they wear each other's clothes. They discover this in a moment of total, blind luck.

They've been fooling around in Jordan's bathroom when the front door squeaks and they realize that they lost track of the time. _Fuck shit fuck oh fucking hell_and they're scrambling to get dressed, to get back to the kitchen before they're missed, before someone comes looking for them. They seem to be in the clear, but a few minutes later as they stand next to the kitchen bench, Jace sweating bullets, Simon mumbles hoarsely, "Damn, Jace, I think I'm wearing your shirt."

Jace flexes his shoulders. He'd _thought _something felt off, and now he realizes that the t-shirt he's wearing is just slightly too tight for him.

"By the Angel," he hisses. "I'm wearing yours."

"You think somebody might notice?" Simon squirms. "What'll we say to them?"

"I dunno, I'll… I'll think of something."

The funny thing is, even though they feel as conspicuous as fucking _hell,_nobody says a goddamn word. Nobody even bats an eye. They make a joke about it to Jordan later — fudging the details and saying they'd mixed up the shirts getting dressed after doing the washing in the morning — Jace had spent the night - and Jordan sets the record straight.

"Of course nobody noticed," he snorts. "What's there to notice? You guys wear similar shirts I guess."

And sure, that's fair, their manner of dress is… remarkably similar. But it isn't until they arrive at the institute that night that they finally realize the true potential of this discovery.

Only the secret lovers knew, and that's the fun of it. Simon's shoulders were slightly broader, and Jace thinks it's hilarious that no one seems to spot the fact that some shirts hang so much tighter on his lean frame, their shape already distorted by the build of their true owner. On the flip side, Simon can feel the difference every time he moves, the material of certain t-shirts hanging too loose across his back, so much more accustomed to acquiring the more muscled chest of the pair. Swapping shoes is another story; although they wear the same size, the shape of their feet is different enough that it's odd and off-putting to walk in the soles that have been worn into the other's form. Jeans are the trickiest with Jace's legs being shorter and more muscular, but every once in a while, just for a laugh, Simon will cinch a pair onto his skinny hips and strut about with his ankles showing.

Their favorite game is to switch while at the institute, in the middle of the day. At first they only do it while wearing clothes that match concretely, but eventually they grow bolder, until Jace will wear a brown shirt, leave, and return to the room wearing a black one. They never really have a set plan. They'll just seize whatever opportunity they can.

They're walking past the empty infirmary when Simon suddenly grabs his lover by the elbow, swinging him inside and pulling the door heavy wooden doors shut behind them. They collide all teeth and tongues, giggling, groping, fumbling around amidst the shadows. Simon yanks Jace's coat halfway down his arms and leaves it there, pinning him while he attacks his neck, licking and biting, teeth fully extended. Jace shimmies an arm loose and grabs the far hem of Simon's shirt, pulling it up over the back of his head and down over his eyes to blind him. As he struggles to get it the rest of the way off, Jace is free to rake his teeth across his narrow, smooth_pale_ chest, his hands slipping down inside his partners jeans to grab his ass. It never gets hotter than when there's a danger of being caught.

And when they're finished, when they've caught their breaths - _Jace really_ - and let some of the heat leave their flushed faces - _Jace again_-, the Nephilim pulls on Simon's faded green t-shirt and Simon pulls on Jace's charcoal grey thermal. They kiss one more time — Simon bites Jace's lower lip and tugs possessively, drawing a slight amount of blood and suckling it gently before they leave. They've been no more absent than if they'd taken a leisurely walk through the long hallways.

"Hey," Alec says, scratching his head, sensing that _something_is different. "Weren't you…?"

The two secret lovers wore matching expressions of polite confusion. The raven haired Nephilim waves his hand dismissively.

"Never mind."

Some time later, they catch each other staring from across the library. Jace buries his nose against his own shoulder and takes a big inhale. He winks at Simon.

_Smells like you._

* * *

><p><strong>I fucking love this pairing like you would not believe. <strong>

**So, whadd'ya think?**


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